Severance: The fall of a Space Marine
by Jew-boii-887
Summary: It is the 41st millennium, and there is only war. This tale follows in the footsteps of Pack Brother Baarbarus of the Surrogate Paladins renegade Space Marine Chapter, and follows his actions as a Chaos Space Marine and his fall from the side of the Emperors Chosen.
1. Chapter One: Introductions

Imperial Hive world: Victorax Vii, 544, M40.  
Second month of the Chaos forces Offensive.

Baarbarus dove into cover, his Power armour creating sparks and shedding paint as it grated across the courtyard. He raised his Boltgun and scanned for targets. His Astartes physiology immediately accommodating for the battlefield smoke. He raised his gun above cover and let fly a thunderous salvo of mass reactive rounds, shredding several Imperial Guardsmen who had exposed themselves too much to gain a better field of fire. The traitor legionnaire ducked back down behind cover as a Plasma Cannon strafed the area. Several Cultists and Beastmen were atomised by the white-hot energy, their melting corpses tumbling to the ground. The rest of Severance squad ducked into cover, the Plasma weapon not harming any of their power-armoured forms. He looked around, and saw the other nineteen Astartes of Severance squad scanning for targets and snapping of on single fire. He glanced at the Imperial position again. They were bedded down behind plasteel and sandbags, not fifty metres across the great courtyard. He counted at least seventy men, a multi platoon strength position. There was a Plasma Cannon in one of the building windows; intermittently it spat ruin and death down upon the Chaos host, its crew were obviously scared of it overheating.

"_Bloodchild, Bloodchild this is Severance; Run into fierce resistance at location Sigma, require support, Bloodchild do you copy?_" rasped Baarbarus into his vox. Nothing but static greeted his words. "In the name of the Warp!" cursed Baarbarus; he rose and emptied the rest of his magazine into the Imperial line. He heard a cry for a medic, and smiled. The buildings must be blocking his signal, he mused.

Several cultists rose and fired their Lasrifles at the Imperials on the other side of their little slice of hell. The Lasgun's harsh snaps clashed with the throaty roar of Severtar's Heavy stubber. Baarbarus looked at his Pack leader, spent shell casings flying from his weapon like rain. His Crimson armour looked faded; it was covered in white dust from the burning and shattered Hive. His massive pauldrons had flayed human hides pinned in each corner, and Abominable runes painted on them in the blood of Innocents. Great spikes jutted from his backpack; Impaled human heads stared out in horror, with witch fire burning in their Eye sockets. His helmet was shaped into the face of a snarling daemon, its open fanged maw revealing his vox grille. He looked magnificent, nay, beautiful thought Baarbarus.

With a concussive roar, Heldron vaulted cover and sprinted forward, his chainaxe baying for the Guardsman's blood. Heldron was the squad's resident Bezerker, having given over himself to the Blood God as soon as the Chapter had turned on the False Emperor. The Cannon found its range and let out a billowing tirade of Plasma fire. Somehow, the Khornate Legionnaire avoided any damage. With his helmet, aiding his already impressive senses Baarbarus saw the Imperials running from the Arcane Emplacement. In a blinding Ice-blue explosion, the Plasma Cannon Exploded. Heldron had already made it across the courtyard and vaulted a toppled colonnade a squad of Guardsman were hiding behind. He Adimantium boots collided with one Guardsman and his momentum, and three hundred kilos of armoured bulk, burst the unfortunates ribs out through his back. The Bezerker swung his screaming chain axe eviscerating a stumbling Guard Sergeant trying to draw his powerblade.  
"_BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD_!" Shrilled Heldron, his dusty armour coated in bright scarlet ichor. His Chain axe continued to rise and fall in bloody arcs.

"_NOW IS OUR TIME_!" roared Severtar, slinging his Heavy Stubber. "_FORWARD WARRIORS OF CHAOS_! _SHOW THESE LAPDOGS WHAT IT MEANS TO EARN THE IRE OF THE SURROGATE PALADINS_!" As one, the Chaos Space Marines broke cover and bolted toward the Imperial Guard lines. Most slung their weapons and drew their black combat knives. Others unclipped chainswords and chainaxes. Severtar unslung a massive double-handed, two metre long Powermace. Pink sparks danced around the mace's head as its powerfeild was activated.  
"_Sanguinem falsum Imperator! Submergatur in sanguine filiorum eius!_" Roared the Surrogate Paladins, their helmet lenses gleaming like topaz fire. The twenty Chaos Marines burst into the Imperial lines.  
The slaughter that followed was monstrous. Braced bayonets broke upon the chest plates of charging Traitor Marines, Cultists stabbed with crude knifes of sharpened stone. Baarbarus punched clean through a Guardsman's head with a hooked fist and blasted with his Bolter, turning once living bodies into pink mist and shredded meat. Men screamed, Beastmen howled, but the Astartes stayed silent. In addition, that was worse than any war cry they could have bellowed. Well except for Heldron, he continued to scream like a lunatic, his dull armour now bright red with the blood of the fallen. Baarbarus looked over at his Pack leader again. Severtar knocked down several guardsmen with a contemptuous sweep of his Mace, the snapping of the Mortals spines louder than the hum of the Power weapon. Severtar grabbed the Imperial leader by the throat, a Lieutenant by his stripes, and crushed the man's neck like a tin can.

"Contact right!" Bellowed Graflon, his horned armour bobbing down into cover. Baarbarus turned and saw them. Massive shaved headed brutes. Homo Sapiens Gigantus, Big Bruisers; Ogryns. Seven of the Abhuman brutes charged out of an alleyway, their thick throats giving voice to bestial roars.  
Baarbarus let rip with what remained in the magazine then threw his bolter aside and drew his Chainblade. There was a yell; Heldron had seen the Ogryns. With a roar, the Crazed Space Marine leapt forward and sprinted for the Ogryns. With a bestial roar one of the Ogryns counter charged, it's Ripper Gun belching buckshot at a horrendous rate. Heldron was slowed by the rain of pellets and raised his arm in front of his face; attempting to block the hail of lead. The Ogryn was on top of him in a second. It swung its rifle like a club, knocking the Blood Crazed marine to one knee. The Ogryn swung again, from the opposite direction. Its gun's powered bayonet sheared into the Ceramite of Heldron's helmet. The Bezerker collapsed onto his back and went to swing his chainaxe. With a thump, the Ogryn's foot pinned it to the ground. Heldron began to scream in rage, froth bubbling out of his helmets grille. Baarbarus looked away from his squad mate's plight to see a large bull Ogryn sprinting at him, Bolt holes pockmarked its flesh and yellowed teeth turned tusk's jutted from its jaw. Graflon fired his Bolter again and caught it in the chest stumbling it. Baarbarus lobbed a frag grenade at the struggling Ogryn and knocked it over. Before the abhuman could get up, He ran forward and with his great weight behind it, drove his Chainsword into its throat. Then with a spray of the Ogryn's lifeblood. Baarbarus ripped his chainsabre free of the dead Ogryn's throat. He turned. Baarbarus saw Severtar Grappling with an Ogryn, his Mace lying at his feet and a combat knife jammed into the Ogryns Bicep. The Ogryn had both of Severtar's hands clenched in its meaty paws and was fighting to lever the Space Marine onto his back. Baarbarus looked around the unfolding melee. He saw his squad slowly winning ground, only because of their twenty marines to the six remaining Ogryns.

There was a sound like a thunder crash, and Baarbarus turned and saw Heldron leaning over the corpse of the Ogryn that had but a few seconds ago had been about to stomp his head in. The Ogryn's head was completely gone, its neck snapped then brutalized off by Heldron's chainaxe. Baarbarus turned, with his superhuman Astartes hearing he thought he heard a whistle. With a start, all of the remaining Ogryns turned and fled back the way they came. They were chased back down the alleyway by Bolter fire and long bursts from Severtar's Heavy stubber.

"_Severance squad! Regroup on me_!" Yelled Severtar, picking up his Mace from where it had fallen. Baarbarus ran a quick head count. No Legionnaires of Severance had been killed, only Heldron had been wounded from several lead fragments piecing his neck seal. The cultists were not so lucky. Of the fifty men, women and Beastmen that had accompanied them into the city only three remained, their broken bodies lay where they had fallen. The Chaos Marines paid them no heed.

"_Pack leader_" One of the traitor Astartes questioned. "_Why did they fall back_?"  
"_Probably bit off more than they could chew_!" guffawed Graflon, his helmet removed and his long black hair softly stirring in the breeze. Severtar looked at Graflon disdainfully.  
"_Brother Graflon, removing your helmet on the field of battle is unsafe; we wear full face helms for a reason_" Remarked the Aspiring Champion.  
As if to punctuate his words, the sound of tank tracks clattered through the air.  
"_PALADINS! DEFENSIVE SPREAD_!" bellowed Severtar.  
"_Sounds like a Leman Russ, Not too far off_" Voxed one of the Marines, Baarbarus could not tell whom by the crackle of the vox. To his left Heldron began to spasm and growl, his head snapping about at every sound. Instead of getting quieter, the tank sounds got louder. Now they could hear the bass throb of its engine.  
"_Way bigger than a Leman Russ_" Remarked Graflon over the vox.  
"_Graflon! Radio discipline! As I recall, you are not in a blood lust like Heldron, so shut your mouth_" Snarled Severtar.

The wall in front of the Chaos Marines exploded. Smoke rolled throughout the courtyard. Baarbarus slapped a magazine of armour piercing rounds into his Boltgun, aimed down range and waited for the smoke to clear. A huge shape loomed before them and Baarbarus froze.  
In his past life, as an Imperial Space Marine of the former Emperor's Paladins Space Marine Chapter, Baarbarus had known no fear. He had battled monstrous Tyranids and killed brutal Orks. Nevertheless, the sight of an Hostile Baneblade in an attack position on him made his blood freeze.  
"BY THE DARK GODS!" yelled Severtar. "_SEVERANCE SQUAD! FALL BACK! RUN YOU FOOLS, TZEENTCH CURSE YOU_!"  
The Baneblade turned its massive turret and fired.


	2. Chapter Two: Recollections

Adeptus Astartes Strike Cruiser: Bellephron, In Orbit of Forty Two -Twelve, 221, M39  
1 hour after achievement of geostationary orbit.

Brother Barbaros relaxed in the Reclusiam, the cold air of the prayer chamber soothing his thoughts. They were drawing into orbit of the Chapter home world, Forty-Two -Twelve. Forty-Two -Twelve, captured in the early days of the Great Crusade by the 42nd expedition fleet and the VI Legion: Vlka Fenrika, or in Low Gothic; The Space Wolves. After the fires of the Great Heresy had died out and the newly formed Chaos Space Marines; driven into the Eye, the Codex Astartes was written and per its dictate, the remaining Imperial Legions were split. Barbaros mused on their Chapter history, after all the Emperor's Paladins were a relatively young chapter, formed in the 22nd Founding in late M37 from Raven Guard Geenseed. All Astartes sons of Forty-Two -Twelve exhibited the features of Corax, being universally pale and midnight black of hair. He looked down on the world he loved through the occuloport built into the side of the _**'Bellephron'**_. He saw the mauve oceans and the golden brown shores and occasionally the black mountain of a Hive.

He remembered his pre Astartes life. He worked the farms with his father, herding Grox and other types of cattle breeds in the tanned grass.  
He remembered his induction to the Space Marines. His father had pushed him forward when the two towering monsters in Crimson had come to their village, seeking aspirants for the "Path of Honour".  
He remembered standing in the cramped conditions of a Rhino with nine other boys, none older than twelve. He remembered his childish beliefs that had been drilled into him by his pastor in the county Scholam. That because this was the twelfth System brought into compliance by the Angels of Death, so was twelve a sacred number, and all who could be just like the liberators of this world must have that sacred number in them.  
He remembered looking around seeing the two monsters reclining on benches far too big for any mortal man and discussing in depth about their latest haul of recruits. He saw one of the monsters, bedecked in a skull faced helm and his black armour plates emerge from the cabin of the Rhino APC. He had told them that they were all about to embark on a journey together.  
He laughed at the memory, he would not have called the "Path of Honour" a journey by a long stretch; it was ten years of hell. Psycho-conditioning, organic implantations and the new muscles in his body trying to burst out of his adolescent skin.

Even throughout all the agony, the boys had trained. First with Autorifles, then Lasguns until finally their muscles had grown and been enhanced enough to handle the kick and roar of a Bolter. He had learn Blade to blade fighting at the hands of Scout Sergeant Fenrion, Bolter drill at the hands of Devastator Sergeant Mandellax and he had learnt the Emperor's Paladins battle doctrine from the mind of Librarian Tsutar. He remembered the horrendous casualty rate. After ten years, the fifty boys the Astartes had gathered from the Glycian province of the Nation of Valcar numbered only five Scouts.  
Barbaros laughed, it had been forty years since that day. He had earned his black carapace and power armour, and was now second in command of Severance Tactical Squad; under Sergeant Severtor. He had fought many battles in the Emperor's name, first as a Scout then as a Devastator. Next an Assault Marine, leaping on wings of flame. Finally, he had reached his current station in a Tactical squad, the Companies main combat unit.

There was a hiss of hydraulic doors. Barbaros snapped back to reality from his thoughts. Brother Heldon limped into the room. He had been badly wounded during the last battle they had fought. The other Space Marine stopped and eased himself onto one of the marble benches.  
"_Greetings Brother, how is the limb?_" said Barbaros, dipping his head in Heldon's direction.  
"_Aye Brother, not as bad as the Ork who decided it would be a good idea to challenge me_" the other Astartes quipped. Barbaros laughed, Heldron always did that, made light of their brutal lives. Even though they were all brothers in the Chapter, sometimes he felt closer to Heldon than any other Astartes. After all Heldon had been with him since he was a Scout, even though Heldon was a child of Glycan city not of the Province farms like Barbaros. They had fought together for the better part of forty years and that strengthened a bond. Along with the last surviving child of the Valcar harvest, Heldon was his oldest comrade. Brother Graflon strode into the room, his power armour removed for a crimson body glove with the chapters iconography emblazoned on its chest. He saw his brothers and smiled, about to launch into some tale of his heroism no doubt. Heldon cut him off.  
"_So you egotistical bastard, decided to come join us eh'_?" The look of suppressed fury on Graflon's face was hilarious and Barbarous began to snigger uncontrollably. Graflon worked his mouth like a fish, trying to vent his fury on his brothers. If he had anything to say, he was cut short.

The ship wide alarms began to wail. Claxons and sirens all screaming with one voice. In one swift motion, Barbaros picked up his Hemet from the prayer altar and affixed it to his armour's collar. Heldon had leapt to his feet and was already pounding down the hall towards the bridge. Graflon was nowhere to be seen. After a jog of a kilometre, they arrived at the bridge. There was a host of Astartes from third company crowding the Observation deck of the bridge. Below them, Captain Flavius stood atop the command dais, looking out at the chapter serf's crewing the bridge of the _**'Bellephron'.**_

"_What is it_?" thundered the Captain.  
"_Out system ships closing from the Lurasian Mandeville point at the system's edge_" shouted the Master of Detection.  
"_The ship's don't match any classific… Wait a moment, identifying, Several Imperial Mass conveyance ships, Imperial Navy, two Inquisitorial Blackships and the Inquisitorial Battleship __**'His Burning Judgment,'**_" Yelled the Master of Engagement.  
"_Hail them, on my screen,_" commanded Captain Flavius. The command screen fizzed with static then resolved into the harsh lined face of an elderly woman. Her left eye was gone, replaced with an eye patch bearing the rosette of the Inquisition. Even before Flavius could speak, she cut him off.  
"_Space Marine, I am Lord Inquisitor Amelia Salvadore, and I request the surrender of You, Your Company and Your vessel_"  
"_Ungrateful Mortal!" bellowed Flavius. "Do you not know who are you addressing? I am 3__rd__ Captain Augustus Flavius, Savoir of Hexfeild VII and Son of The Emperor, what right do you have to demand my surrender_?" the Inquisitor smirked, an open gesture of contempt.  
"_I know exactly who you are, Space Marine_" she stopped and issued an order of screen. Her smirking face returned.  
"_I am asking, because you and your Brothers have been declared Excommunicate Tratoris_". The entire bridge went silent. Captain Flavius Roared his hatred.  
"_YOU DARE! YOU DARE QUESTION MY CHAPTER'S LOYALTY? YOU LABEL US HERETICS?!_"  
the Inquisitor let slip an evil smile, a look in her eyes that held all the threat of a collapsing star.  
"_I can, and I have_" The link cut out. Alarms began to whoop.

"_Vessels powering up their forward Lances!_" yelled the Master of Detection.  
"_Enemy fleet elements accelerating, about to arrive in our engagement zone_" another crewmember shouted.  
"_Give me ship wide Vox_!" Shouted Captain Flavius. The wall-mounted tannoys began to echo the captain's words.  
"_This is the Captain; we are engaged with Inquisitorial Fleet elements, all Astartes to your boarding tubes_". The captain switched off his vox. "_Get the Astropath to signal the Chapter fleet, let them know their dropping into an opening engagement_".

"_Captain! Are we really going to engage the Inquisition?_" shouted one of the Sergeants. Flavius turned.  
"_Of course_" he stated. "_Don't you want to protect the Chapter?_" The Marines stood silently. Their minds racing to comprehend the racing situation.  
"_Sir! Multiple ships entering system! Imperial navy battle group! One Battleship, 2 Lunar Class cruisers and 8 Firestorm frigates!_" Bellowed the Master of Detection.  
"_Serf-Captain!_" bellowed Flavius "_You have the Conn_". A small man with thinning white hair and the uniform of an Imperial Navy Admiral stood up and directed the crew.

"_Come my brothers, let us wreak vengeance on those who seek to dishonour us_," snarled Captain Flavius.


	3. Chapter Three: Steel Wings 'a' Flapping

Imperial Hive world: Victorax Vii, 544, M40.

Second month of the Chaos forces Offensive.

Baarbarus was running for his life, he felt bolt shells corkscrewing past him. His adrenaline addled system tried to convince him that he could see the supersonic bolts in flight, but he ignored it. The Baneblade sat at the end of the street, spewing hellfire and total urban domination from its eleven barrels of hell. One of Severance Squad were prone before it, his chest blown out by a co-axial Autocannon's thunder. The rest of them had scattered in every direction, all battlefield doctrine forgotten.

Baarbarus leapt over a low wall and came face to face with one of the surviving Cultists, an old and decrepit Lasgun clutched in his hands.  
"_You! Come with me!_" Thundered Baarbarus and the wretch complied, his slapping boot steps lost in the thunder of Baarbarus's cacophonous footsteps. They continued to run, the sounds of the Baneblade's rage echoing down the street. He stopped when he came to a looming warehouse door and hauled the hyperventilating Cultist inside.  
He checked his Boltgun and found it still had seven rounds in its magazine. He reached for his chainsword, but found only an empty leather holster. With a growl of disgust, he threw the useless leather aside. He heard the Cultist whimpering in a corner, desperately praying to Tzeentch, Nurgle and whoever would listen, to deliver him from this hell. Baarbarus continued to check his weaponry and armour. He had found in his experience that the gods do not reward whingers.

There was a crackle from his helmet vox.  
"_Severance? This is Bloodchild; I repeat this is Bloodchild, Severance? Where are you? Do you still require assistance?_" it was their Chaos Lord's Herald, Mandellax. He must have heard their vox traffic from before, ricocheting between the buildings.  
Severtar's voice rasped from the vox.  
"_This is Severance, Casualties sustained, Enemy Super heavy blocking our advance into the city, elements scattered, requesting Evangeline_"  
"_Copy, Evangeline is tasked_" Replied Bloodchild, the vox beginning to chop with static again.  
There was another crackle this time over the squad vox.  
"_Brothers! Air support inbound, regroup on my position,_" cackled Severtar.

"_Come on wretch_" grunted Baarbarus. The Cultist immediately jumped to his feet, the little man wreaked of fear. Baarbarus looked on his HUD, Severtar had posted a waypoint of his location and the squad was slowly moving towards it. He looked right and left down the street, the Baneblade was nowhere in sight. He could hear its bass throb of the engine though, which meant it was close.  
He sprinted across the street and knelt into cover behind a toppled statue of some Imperial saint. The cultist began his run across the street, and was cut down by a headshot that atomised his head and upper torso. Baarbarus Looked out across the street and cycled his helmet to thermal, spotting the sniper hiding between some cooling stacks of a factory, thirty metres down the street. He switched his Boltgun to single fire and put a precision Bolt round right down the Sniper's scope. He rose from cover and sprinted towards the waypoint.

When he reached there, he found all the surviving members of Severance. Heldron sat in a corner, smacking his deactivated chainaxe against the hard ground. Graflon leaned against a steel workbench, the structure visibly creaking under his weight. Severtar stood in the middle of the room carving the eight-pointed star into a bowl helmet he found onto the floor. Severtar looked up.  
"_Ah! Brother Baarbarus, so good of you to join us_" grinned Severtar, his daemonhelm leered at him. The rest of the squad began to gather round the middle of the room. Their crimson armour now stained with dried blood and dust with equal measure.

There was a muffled shriek from outside.  
"_Evangeline_" breathed Severtar, there was a sardonic cackle from the back of the room, Heldron had returned to his senses.  
"_Brothers!_" Heldron bayed "_The light of Evangeline comes for us all_" he let out another insane cackle. Well as sensible as he got.  
"_The great Evangeline Dragon shall fall from the heavens on the unbeliever and rend and tear, FOR THE BLOOD GOD!_"He cackled, his helmet began to snap around the room in time to his grating laughter. Severtar gestured and the squad began to move outside.

There was the hiss of displaced air and a massive shadow roared over them. They looked up, the plain grey, cloud choked skies of Victoriax greeted them. There was another shriek, from the other direction. The tracked their heads around to look, nothingness greeted them again.  
There was a rumble from the opposite end of the street. Revving hard, the Baneblade rounded the corner, its headlights looming like monstrous eyes. The sponson Heavy Bolters began to chatter, stitching the street ahead with miniature explosions. Severance spread out and returned fire, their bullets and Bolts blinking of its great Adimantuim hull. There was a shriek and the sun disappeared for a moment. A great gout of purple flame reached out of the heavens and washed across the Baneblade's surface, melting the forward Heavy Bolters barrels. Smoke canisters all over the great tank popped under the heat, covering it in a deep grey smoke. With the woosh of displace air and the sweep of unseen wings the invisible killer flew overhead. No one in Severance had seen it yet. The Baneblade continued to fire. Its Main Cannon began to track round on the squad's position. With a roar, the Main Cannon fired. The shell whizzed past Severtar and detonated further down the street causing the Façade of a building to collapse into shattered masonry in the street. The cannon tracked again and lined up, Baarbarus felt like it was staring directly at him. He felt that icy feeling of fear building up in his system again.

There was another shriek, much louder this time. The sun was blocked out for a split second.  
"_Evangeline_" breathed Baarbarus. With an ear sundering smash Evangeline, Heldrake of the Surrogate Paladins Warband collided with the turret of the Baneblade. Talons extended and baleflamer roaring, it hit the superstructure of the main turret and crumpled it like a tin can. With warp, twisted jaws it ripped open the roof hatch and poured baleflame into the interior of the Superheavy Tank. With a woosh of air, the Heldrake roared into flight again, just in time. With a thunderous catastrophic explosion, the Baneblade exploded. A small mushroom cloud sprouted from the blacked flame wracked husk of the Baneblade and reached toward the grey skies of Victoriax. All of Severance squad jumped to their feet cheering, roaring great cacophonous howls.  
"_Severance this is Bloodchild, the invasion force is beginning the second wave, friendly units expected to arrive at your position in five minutes_" Crackled the company level vox.  
"_Acknowledged Bloodchild, Enemy Superheavy is down, Evangeline smashed the bastard,_" replied Severtar.

Baarbarus sat himself down against the stone column behind the lines. Severance squad and all other Chaos Space Marine shock units had been recalled to let the waves of Cultist's drown the Imperial guns with their blood. He looked to his left, a column of Tanks was rolling past, and most were Old Leman Russ variants, liberated from the Imperial Guard, a small number were of a local pattern Baarbarus did not recognise. They were all sloped of armour and sporting quad Autocannons in a turret mount. Instead of tracks the moved across the ground on four fat tires, and they sported a bizarre urban puzzle camo scheme.  
Severtar lay next to him picking meat out of his teeth with a knife. The Champions face was shaved hairless and was an Alabaster white, with a regal nose and hard unblinking yellow eyes. He was unblemished apart from the star of Chaos marked in tattoo across his forehead.  
His Daemonhelm lay across from him, upturned against his Heavy Stubber. The sky shook; he looked up and saw several looted Vulture gunships roaring across the sky in close formation, Chaos Command was not sparing any expense from taking this world.  
He lay back and closed his eyes. As an Astartes, he didn't need to sleep, not like mortal men, but it helped him relax and remember why they did this, why they turned on the False Emperor.


	4. Chapter Four: Tides of Fire

Adeptus Astartes Strike Cruiser: Bellephron, In Orbit of Forty Two -Twelve, 221, M39

1 hour after first contact with Exterminatus Fleet.

Barbaros sprinted down the embarkation deck, his Boltgun held across his chest. He and the rest of Severance Tactical squad, were racing down to their boarding tube; two abreast with Sergeant Severtor in the head. They passed a series of Faustus Interceptor's being rearmed. He passed one, painted bright white unlike the others that were the chapters dull crimson. Painted on its side, in low gothic, was the crafts name; Evangeline.

They arrived at the tube; the Sergeant turned and counted them in.  
"_Barbaros, Heldron, Graflon, Simmelus, Cagulia, Arongus, Xannbia, Yellvon and Kaj_" Severtor turned and followed them in.  
"L_ock yourselves in! Brace for Launch in five, four, three_" Shouted the Sergeant. Barbaros looked out his crash seat's occuloport. He saw nothing but the gunmetal bulkhead of the launch tube.  
"_IGNITION_" yelled the pilot servitor. Its body hardwired into the front of the craft.

The Thrusters fired. Barbaros felt himself being pushed into his chair. He looked out the window. He saw running lights flashing by his face at quite a speed. Then finally, they were in the void. He looked out, from the port's limited view he could see little of the engagement. He did see the crimson side of the '**Bellephron' **shrinking away. He saw one of the Inquisitorial Blackships, on fire end-to-end; venting atmosphere into the black of space, tumble past them several thousand kilometres off. He saw a brilliant flash of light as the **'Bellephron' **fired her starboard lances, streaking past them and lancing the void shields of the Supermassive Inquisitorial battleship. The Chapter fleet had dropped in thirty minutes earlier and now a furious fleet battle was erupting above Forty Two –Twelve.

"_Seal your armour!_" roared Sergeant Severtar. Barbaros grabbed his helm from beside him and locked it into place with a hiss. He looked through his helmets HUD; feeds of tactical data were feeding through and updating him on the current situation. **'Corax's Chosen'**, **'Drake'** and their attendant escorts had engaged the Imperial navy battlegroup, and the Chapter Master's Battlebarge **'Fury of the Raven'** had engaged the Inquisitorial Battleship, strafing her with a crippling port broadside. The **'Bellephron'** had engaged **'His Burning Judgment,'** from her starboard side and was trying to sneak boarding tubes in under the distraction of the **'Raven's'** thunderous attack.

There was a burning bright light. Barbaros closed his eyes against the flash. When it subsided, he looked out the occuloport. The Blackship had hit the planet's atmosphere at the wrong angle and broke up, detonating her plasma drives in the process.  
"_Brace for shockwave!_" bellowed Severtar. The slowly expanding wave of debris hit the Boarding tube. The small craft shook like a thing possessed. Barbaros gritted his teeth behind his helm; he hated Void combat.

The tiny craft's screaming engines propelled them into range of the Battleship's Anti-fighter defences. All along the Battleship's hull, macrocannon turrets began rotating and pumping hard rounds into vacuum at the approaching boarding parties. The tube in formation next to Severance's exploded. Shaking the hull of the tiny armoured missile.  
"_Impact in three, two, and one!_" counted down the pilot servitor. A great plasma cutting head exploded into life, and then the tube hit the side of **'His Burning Judgment,'**

Barbaros looked around, they were inside the ship, and the tube had punched in through the thick hull of the ship and deposited them in a vast hallway. He looked to his left; several boarding tubes lay strewn along the corridor like themselves, air hissing out of the great rents in the hull behind them. Severtar Kicked open the rear hatch of the tube and led his men out, magnetic boots affixing him to the deck despite the vacuum suction. The sergeant drew his Chainsword and led the men out, the ten battle brothers taking up defensive formation.

Severance squad strode towards the rest of the Emperor's Paladins Marines gathering by the closed bulkhead that had slammed shut as soon as the Tubes had pierced the Hull. He saw twenty odd Space Marines, a Tactical squad and a Devastator squad. Barbaros put names to several of the suits of armour, there in the crimson Mk3 plate with the white helm, Sergeant Klepoa and adorned in the rust red Mk4 plate of the Adeptus Mechanicus was Vortooa; the Company's Techmarine.  
"_Sergeant Severtar, this is Brother Sergeant Klepoa, we are forming up behind you waiting on your lead_" came a report over the vox. Severance squad stacked up beside the bulkhead, Techmarine Vortooa stood by the door controls, his augmetic fingers dancing across the door controls.  
The huge door rolled upwards with a hiss, and the air began to explosively rush out; along with several Naval Armsmen. Their screams were lost in the airlessness of space.  
"_Go, the Machine Spirits of the ship are already fighting back against this intrusion_" spoke the Techmarine, his voice grating out in a bass monotone.  
"_Severance! Illumination and Liberation squads, follow us in!_" bellowed Severtar. Barbaros stormed in after Brother Xannbia, his Boltgun up and searching for targets. The two other squads rushed in, with several Marines bracing the bulkhead with their massive forearms. Techmarine Vortooa ran in past the straining Marines holding the Bulkhead up. With a collective grunt, the Marines let go of the bulkhead, letting the hydraulics and the ships artificial gravity do its work.  
"_Sensors read that the area is pressurised Sergeant_" intoned the Techmarine. The Astartes began to deactivate their magnetic boots.  
"_Contact!_" bellowed Brother Simmelus; his Boltgun began bucking in his hands.

Barbaros looked down the corridor and saw the tide of humanity rushing towards them. At least one hundred Inquisitorial Warriors were sprinting down the narrow corridor towards them, firing as they came. A lasbolt struck Barbaros on the pauldron and knocked his aim aside just briefly. Barbaros and the thirty other Astartes in the room, opened fire.  
The slaughter was horrendous, the Inquisitorial henchmen, packed in like sardines in the narrow hallway, were ripped apart by the thunderous volley of bolt rounds. Brother Kaj moved to the front of the corridor and began to hose the oncoming Soldiers with incandescent promethium from his flamer. Still the Warriors kept charging into the Astartes guns. Barbaros reloaded, and by the time he had slotted in a new magazine the enemy were dead. He realised his estimate was off, the thirty Astartes had slaughtered at least three hundred Soldiers of the Inquisition.

* * *

"_Sir, we are getting a signal; Its Captain Flavius and the rest of the company,_" Shouted Graflon.  
"_Well, what do they want?_" asked Sergeant Severtar, his manner impatient. Since the slaughter at the penetration point, they had come across no hostile units. So far, they had toured 4 kilometres of the ships internal passages and found no one.  
"_They are outside the bridge, they are supplying directions; uploading them to our HUD's_" Replied Graflon.  
Barbaros looked into his visors map, directly below his left eye. A small blueprint of the Battleship resolved itself and a white line began to trace itself from their position to a point inside the castle superstructure of the Ships Bridge.  
"_Brothers! We have our map, let us find the Captain_," Roared Severtar.  
The thirty Astartes began to march down the dark corridors towards their objective, two abreast as the Astartes massive bulk would not permit anything else.  
Barbaros found himself next to Heldon and found his brothers silence uncomfortable.  
"_Brother? What is the matter?_"He asked him in a private vox. There was an uncomfortable silence over the vox followed by a Heldon's tired sigh.  
"_What are we doing here brother?_" Asked Heldon.  
"_I don't follow_" Replied Barbaros.  
"_Why are we fighting fellow servants of the Emperor?_" questioned the other Marine.  
"_Because, they declared us heretics, our Chapter will not stand for such a grave insult"_  
"_Barbaros, when did we begin to fight all of our detractors? Were we not taught that we should always try to resolve our differences with other Imperial bodies?_"  
Barbaros had no reply for him; he knew that they had always had a shaky understanding with the Inquisition, being this far from Terra in the Galactic South West. He felt just as torn as Heldon; but he knew not to show it on mission.

The Thirty Space Marines arrived at a cargo lift, and Vortooa began to redirect power to lift them up to the bridge.  
"_By my understanding, this lift shall take us right into the lower levels of the Main Bridge; we should signal the commander to begin his assault_" Spoke the Techmarine, it had been the first words he had spoken since the slaughter.  
"_Right, Severance and Liberation, set up by the doorway, Illumination take your Devastators in the centre and prepare to deliver suppression fire,_" instructed Severtar.  
A chorus of Ayes greeted the Sergeant's request and the thirty Astartes began to move to their positions. With the hiss of the great bulkheads opening, the Emperor's Paladins took the door.  
Several-surprised Naval Armsmen did not have time to react before several bolt rounds detonated in their chests, their Lasguns clattering in to the floor besides their truncated waists. The Space Marines ran in, putting Bolter fire into anything that moved against them. Severtar was at the head of the speartip, his Bolt pistol letting out snapping reports as he demolished several Inquisitorial serfs too slow at getting out of his way.  
Barbaros looked up; Flavius was duelling with the Inquisitor Lord's Bodyguard. The Bodyguard was a skinny woman in a tight purple body glove, duel-wielding twin Powerswords. She lunged in and Flavius blocked several of her swipes. With the thunder of their steel shod boots, the remaining Astartes took to the floor of the bridge. There were no other combat personnel left on the Inquisition side. Only the Bodyguard and the Inquisitor Lord herself remained; aside from the bridge crew. A ring of Crimson Paladins surrounded the command throne and the duel taking place before it. No one wanted to steal their Captain's honour. With a contemptuous flick of his wrist, Flavius knocked one of the Bodyguards Powerswords from her hand and then slammed his open palm into the Bodyguard's face. The Bodyguard, now with a skull the consistency of broken glass, collapsed like a lopped tree.  
He stepped over the dead woman and approached the Lord Inquisitor.  
"_So, Inquisitor_" began Flavius, his voice reeking of Mocking. "_Please, enlighten us as to how we are heretics?_" he crossed to the Command throne and ripped the old woman from her seat and tossed her across the deck. With a thump muffled by her leather coat, she crashed to the deck.  
"_Tell us, what makes us Heretics?_" Flavius continued. The Inquisitor said nothing.  
"_Speak! Emperor curse you!_" Spat Flavius. The Inquisitor began to laugh. She let out a keen, marrow chilling cackle. Flavius swung a frustrated fist at the woman. It should have killed her. There was a collective gasp from the Astartes. The small frail elderly woman's gnarled fist clutched the Space Marines fist mid-swing. Flavius snarled in anger.  
"_What sorcery is this?_" bellowed the Captain.  
"_The best kind_" grinned Lord Inquisitor Amelia Salvadore. Barbaros felt shock, the old woman's voice was not her own. In a bright flash of Purple-blue light, the Inquisitor was no longer there. In her place stooped a hunchbacked figure, its blue body covered in eyes and twisting mouths. An aqua cloak covered in abominable runes shrouded its face and upper body. Fire spat from two of of its hands, and in last hand, it clutched a golden staff topped with the symbol of the Daemon-God of Change, Tzeentch.  
"_Daemon!_" cursed Flavius.  
"_Oh very good, Captain Augustus Flavius, of Rolsdia city, the nation of Valcar; son of Forty Two –Twelve; Child of the False Emperor_" uttered The Changeling.  
The Daemon's voice flowed like silk, and at once sounded both Soprano and Bass Tenor. The abomination of its voice was physically painful to Barbaros's ears.

Barbaros tried to raise his Boltgun to fire and banish the Daemon. He could not. His arms would not respond. He found his entire body to be paralysed. He watched the Daemon talk with his Captain, his rage simmering with the heat of a supernova.  
"_You asked me how you were heretics, Take a look around you,"_ the daemon gestured to the fleet action enfolding outside the bridge. The entire Exterminatus fleet burned in orbit.  
"_I am the only agent of Chaos here; you have killed a reinforcement fleet bound for the Cadian Gate, stopping off here for fresh recruits and supplies_" Hissed the Daemon.  
"_I only faked broadcast's that lead to you opening fire on us and then promoting a response_" Barbaros couldn't see the Daemons face, but knew it must have been wearing a smile of victory.  
"_The Inquisition proper will be here soon, and you and your Brothers will be declared Heretics, for wiping out a fleet requesting aid in your borders_" the Daemon turned. It walked over to the command throne and pressed a button. Flavius still stood there frozen, his fist mid-swing.  
"_Watch, warrior of Corax, as your world burns_".

The Inquisitorial Battleship **'His Burning Judgment,' **hung over Forty Two –Twelve like a black castle of doom. Suddenly below its centre line, several thousand silos opened.  
As one, over two thousand five hundred atmospheric incinerator missiles blasted their way towards the planet's surface.

Barbaros couldn't tear his eyes away. He watched as his world, his home, burned.


	5. Chapter Five: Black Hearted Betrayls

Imperial Hive world: Victorax Vii, 544, M40.  
Second month of the Chaos forces Offensive.

The sky shook. It was the 23rd day of the second month of the Chaos forces attack on Victoriax, and the last obstacle stood before them; The Citadel.  
The Citadel was a huge slab sided tower two hundred metres in diameter. Twin Earthshaker cannons in double-barrelled blister turrets lined its walls, raining damnation around the besieging Chaos host lying in wait in the ruins of the Hive city. Their thunderous shelling split the air. The artillery of Chaos replied. Corrupted Minotaur, Basilisk and Medusa Artillery tanks began to split the air with their shelling. The massive artillery duel lit up the nights for weeks on end, neither side getting any closer to victory. Chaos Gunships, waspish and deadly fast, darted in and braved Imperial Hydra fire to drop volleys of rockets on the Citadel interior. Waves of Cultists rushed the gates dying in droves, entrenched Imperial Guardsmen laying down blistering fire patterns that cut them down as soon as they emerged from cover. Through it, all the Surrogate Paladins sat in reserve. Their time to attack not yet ripe.

Baarbarus walked along the shelled out street. Several Leman Russ tanks burned at the other end, their burning hulks left there since the start of the siege. Baarbarus stalked forwards, his Boltgun held ready; too many Imperial counter attacks had penetrated the Chaos lines over the last few nights. Imperial recon troops had been staging counter attacks, running out under cover of darkness to spike the Chaos guns and kill Line Officers of the Renegade Infantry.  
Under his calm veneer of operational efficiency, Baarbarus fumed. This was not the work for Astartes. Patrolling, guarding what they had won? That was whelp work, just another mindless task for the fanatical cultists in Baarbarus's opinion. Where he should be, he mused, was at Northerngate, where fourth and second companies had begun their assaults. Even now, he could see the rolling firestorms of Incendiary rounds detonating; sweeping the defences in guttering flame. He looked further across the skyline to Westerngate, where the Chaos Host's armour was rolling in.

The clanking of tracks announced the Chaos armour. They poured forth like a great steel wave, battle cannons thundering their contempt for the Imperials. The great Westerngate opened, Imperial armour charged out to intercept. Lascannons flared, Bolters chattered and Main guns let rip with thunderous volleys. Amidst the thunderous armour duel, infantry clashed, their Lasguns and Autorifles lost amidst the thunder of a swirling armour assault. A low flying Hellblade strafed the huge highway, its Autocannons bringing up clouds of dust and shredding armour wherever it touched. Great swirling firestorms swept across the concrete as Chaos flame tanks advanced, their sleek angled forms straining under fat promethium reservoirs.

Baarbarus continued to fume, warp dammit he should be in the thick of that fighting. He finished his patrol of the street and turned back the way he had come, his Boltgun never leaving the firing position it maintained on his hip.

He heard something, he was about to dismiss it when he heard it again; the hiss of a vox caster. Baarbarus turned and cycled his helmets feed to heat sensitive. He saw a glowing heat source, at least 30 metres distant. The exhaust vents for the small plasma generator of a Plasma gun. Behind it, he could barely make out the shapes of five fully armoured Imperial Stormtroopers. Baarbarus Immediately voxed Severtar.  
"_Severance Lead, this is Severance Barbarian, enemy insurgency team sighted, permission to engage?_"  
His Pack leaders reply came back almost immediately. "_Hunting consented Severance Barbarian, redirecting Bezerker, Trickster and Trap to your location_". Baarbarus moved his considerable bulk into cover, his Boltgun focused on the far wall he knew the Imperials were hiding behind. He draped the shadows around him like a cloak, if the Codex Astartes had taught him anything when he still practiced its teachings; it was how to conceal ten feet of power armour in an ambush situation. He saw movement at the far end of the street. Graflon, Heldron and Kaj were moving up to support. He could see the pilot light of Kaj's flamer, Khorne dammit that would give them away.

"_Barbarian to Trap, put that light out, or we'll be eating plasma fire_" Voxed Baarbarus.  
With a dip of his massive shoulders to show he was annoyed by the suggestion, Kaj flicked of his flamer's pilot light.

At least they were following stealth protocol, bodies hunched low and sticking to the shadows of the buildings. He could see Heldron's motions lacked the jerking insanity they usually possessed; at least he was relatively lucid. Graflon moved with the practiced stealth of any son of Corax; Heretical or not.

The four Chaos Space Marines took up ambush positions, Heldron and Kaj taking cover in the middle of the street behind a burning tank. Graflon moved up onto a balcony readying his Bolter to fire. Baarbarus took his position and sighted through the wall.

"_Execute,_" breathed Baarbarus into the vox.  
"_BLOOOOOOOOOD! BLOOOOOOOD! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!_" roared Heldron, and vaulted cover and sprinted for the Imperial position. Immediately Kaj was up and sprinting alongside him, his pilot light lit. The Imperial Stormtroopers reacted professionally, bringing their Hellguns to bear and blasting at the charging Space Marines with practiced precision. Heldron was about to reach the wall when Baarbarus whispered into the vox again.  
"_Breaching_". As one, he and Graflon opened fire, their thundering Boltguns cratering the thick concrete wall to the point of weakness. Heldron, at this point travelling in excess of five metres per second smashed into, and then clean through, the wall. Even from fifty metres away, Baarbarus could hear the insane laughter of the Khorne Bezerker as he butchered the black clad troopers. Kaj was in right after him, sprinting past the spraying viscera and ichor and into the next room where he proceeded to drown the remaining Imperials in an ocean of rolling warp flame.  
"_Severance Lead this is Severance Barbarian, insurgency team eliminated, what is our next course of action?_" voxed Baarbarus.  
"Severance Barbarian, retreat at full speed to safe distance" cut in a voice, one Baarbarus did not recognise.  
"_Who is this? Identify yourself!_" roared Severtar over the vox. "_Nobody orders Severance squad but me!_"  
"_Severance Lead this is Goldenking, Retreat to safe distance_" came another, deeper bass voice.

"_Goldenking?..._" muttered Baarbarus. That was the call sign of the Lead Chaos Champion, the one directing the assault. Chaos Lord Brutus the Defiler, Champion of the Black Legion, Chosen of Abbadon.

"_Kaj! Heldron! Graflon! Best speed to the base! NOW!_" Bellowed Baarbarus. He rose from cover and bolted up the street. The three other Space Marines were right behind him.  
"_Severance Lead to Bloodchild, what's going on?_" asked Severtar.  
"_Severance Lead, Bloodchild here, we have detected the Imperials are pushing the Citadel's reactor to dangerous levels, and it will detonate within the hour_"  
Baarbarus looked over at the Gates. The Cultist Armour units were still engaging the Imperials. He looked over at Northerngate; to his horror, the Surrogate Paladins were still engaged.  
"_Command, why are Surrogate Paladins units not pulling back from the gate assaults?_"  
"_Command here_" came the reply, it was a Black Legionnaire, Baarbarus could tell by the bass timbre of his voice. "_All units engaged on the gates are deemed expendable; we don't want the Imperials to escape their doom_"  
"_CALLOUS BARSTARD!_" roared Baarbarus into his helm.  
"_Severance Lead to Second and Fourth Companies!_" Severtar yelled into the vox. Only static greeted his words. The heavy shelling was interfering with the helmet vox's long-range function.  
"_Slannesh take the Whoresons!_" yelled Severtar "_The Black Legion arseholes are jamming our signal_".

"_Pack Leader_" stated Graflon, his voice as smooth as silk. "_Regardless if we warn our Brothers or not, that reactor will detonate, I am all for helping our Brothers from the other companies; perhaps we should do it from a safe distance_". The silence that followed it was deafening.

"_Severance Squad, this is Severance Lead, Fall back to safe distance_" the sound of bitten down hatred in their Pack Leader's voice was as well hidden as a Bloodthirster in a grenade crate. And with that, Severance squad abandoned their Brothers.


	6. Chapter Six: New World, New Identity

Sorry about the long gap in between chapter's guys.  
Real life kinda got in the way. I'm guessing (Probably correctly) most of you don't know me in real life. Well I've been having it a bit rough. Its been a year since I was diagnosed with Cancer and I've had a lot of Test recently to see if Its gone and not coming back. Plus my computer has been playing up and so I've had to reset it and do a lot of stuff to get the story back on track. but hey, you guys are here for my written story, not my life story. :P

So without further adoo, here it is.

* * *

Adeptus Astartes Strike Cruiser: Bellephron, In Warp transit: Heading Unknown, 221, M39

3 hours post Exterminatus of Forty Two –Twelve

Barbaros knelt in the embarkation deck along with the rest of the company. One hundred Astartes, kneeling giving mournful voice to the loss of their homeworld. They had just finished 'The Warriors Lament of Loss' and the Chaplain leading them stepped down from the makeshift pulpit of ammo crates he had been conducting them from. Meanwhile around the mourning Astartes ship life went on. Chapter Serfs and servitors moved back and forth between interceptors and gunships, rearming them for the inevitable show down with the Inquisition. It was not as if the ruination of a world had not upset the serfs, almost all of them were sons of Forty Two –Twelve, and a great number of them wept openly; being left orphans by their mother worlds death.

Captain Flavius rose to the front of the assembly and addressed the crowd.  
"_Brothers, my dear, dear Brothers, we all saw what the Inquisition did to our Chapter home_"  
there were grunts of acknowledgement and resentment, nobody among them was a friend of 'Imperial Justice' anymore.  
"_And we saw treachery the great enemy pulled over our eyes, but the Inquisition are not known to be forgiving, they will hunt us to the end of days for the destruction of their fleet_" he continued. Flavius gestured to the closed launch doors, but everybody knew he truly gestured to the warp.  
"_Out there all that remains of our Chapter, all that remains of our home, travels with us; we are headed outside of the Imperium's borders to plan our next move with Chapter command, dismissed Brothers, I leave you to your thoughts_".  
With one solid movement, the Brothers of Third Company rose and made the sign of the Aquila, their power armoured hands sounding dull thuds upon their crimson breastplates.

Barbaros walked with Heldon and Graflon back to their squad's dormitory. He could feel the foul anger emanating of Heldon like a malign aura. He knew he should not try to talk to him, his foul mood the foulest he had ever seen. Graflon was harder to read, despite his usual cheeriness gone.

They walked through the door and strode into their ten-man chamber. Kaj sat at the foot of his bunk, stripping and then re-assembling his bolt lay on the deck doing push ups at a blinding rate, trying to block out his anguish with physical exercise. Cagulia lay as still as a corpse, seemingly calm despite events. Arongus and Xannbia were engaging themselves in a game of Regicide, but neither seemed much invested in the game. Yellvon was reading the Codex Astartes, trying to block his mind out with tactical dogma.  
Heldon got at least five steps in the door, before he tore off his helmet yelled as loud as he could and threw the Mk Vii helm across the room, impacting into the far room with a loud clang. He then walked up to his bunk and buried his power armoured knuckles in the wall, leaving a fist shaped dent in the Adimantuim surface. There was a hiss of hydraulic as the door rolled aside and Sergeant Severtor strode into the room. All the Marines looked up, Heldon especially.  
"_Brother Sergeant…I…_" began Heldon. The Sergeant silenced him with a look and strode over to where Heldon stood and punched the same wall with all his might. With a nod to Heldon he walked to his bunk and lay down, His power armoured fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose; eyes closed in contemplation. There was a scrape of metal, everyone turned. Graflon looked up guiltily like a child. His Knife in his hand, bolter across his lap. He looked around the room and continued. Barbaros's sharp eyes picked out he was engraving 'Remember 42-12' into his Bolter. Barbaros sat on his bunk and began the long process of removing his Power armour. After he had finished removing his battle plate, he called for a servitor to take it to the armoury for repair, and collapsed on his bunk. He closed his eyes and began to dream.

He awoke, and found himself in a musty wood cabin. He looked to his right, a small wooden nightstand sat next to him. He pulled himself up, and walked to the cupboard and pulled his work clothes from their hangars. He had better hurry up, he mused. Father was angry last time he overslept. He pulled up his overalls and dashed out past the kitchen, he glimpsed his mother preparing breakfast for his father and him. He smelt the musky odour of Grox cheese and the aroma of fresh bread cooking. He stopped at the door, grabbed his boots, and pulled them up. He ripped open the door and bolted outside into the early morning sunlight. He ran down past the crop fields, the first rays of sunlight peaking over their bushy heads. He saw his father leaning over a calf Grox, trimming its horns with an angle grinder. He tried to yell a greeting to his father, but his young voice was drowned out by an ear-shattering thunderclap. He looked up; great missiles were burning through the atmosphere. To his horror, they detonated. Great rolling clouds of fire expanded from the missiles, their volatile payload setting the very air afire. He screamed in horror, his father stared blankly at the sky. The tides of fire touched the ground, the whole world burned. He could feel it. Grox were touched by the approaching tidal wave of fire; they turned to puffs of black dust. He saw his father evaporate against the raging inferno. He screamed a terrible noise only those who have just lost the thing that means the most to them could make. He felt the fire touch him, envelop him, destroy him. The words of the Changeling echoed in his mind.  
"_Watch, Warrior of Corax, as your world __**burns**_".

Barbaros awoke, his superhuman physiology awakening him more effectively than any normal human. Ship wide translation alarms were wailing, he leapt to his feet, and pulled on his dress tunic he had in his crate at the foot of his bunk. It was a pale grey, like early morning light, and the chapter emblem was emblazoned in gleaming white and silver thread. Black pants followed it with a stripe of the same crimson that adored their power armour. Barbaros regarded his Chapter heraldry, a lone knight of Terran antiquity, holding aloft a sword, shielding a blue and green world behind him with his body from unseen foes. He felt wretched because of it, how could they protect any world now?  
He assembled with the rest of Severance squad as they filed out of their bunk, all in their dress tunics. Severtor followed them out, his tunic lined with gold braid. The rest of the company was filling out alongside them, all headed to the same place; the embarkation deck.

Barbaros strode in along in step with the rest of Severance squad, onto the cold, blast proof decking of the embarkation deck. The ship entire compliment of Thunderhawks had been raised from the hangar spaces and the warriors of the Third were embarking. Barbaros seated himself in one of the chairs along the gunships interior and belted himself down. Although there where at least thirty space marines in close proximity to each other, the gunship was as quiet as a tomb.

The huge adimantium bulkhead doors of the embarkation deck rolled aside, venting the air inside onto hard vacuum. As one the four Thunderhawks of Third Company rose and turned for the blackness of space. One after another the slab sided gunships fired up their afterburners and blasted out of the hangar. The Four gunships formed up into a wedge formation as they skimmed the gunmetal grey outer hull of the **_'Bellephron'_**, starlight glinting off their canopies. **_'Bellephron' _**and the rest of the Chapter fleet were in orbit of a dead world, so insignificant that it didn't even have a name in the Imperial records. Brown dusty plains stretched from horizon to horizon. Great sandstorms ripped across its equator in a continuous belt of elemental wrath.

One hundred thousand kilometres off the **_'Bellephron'_**s starboard flank, space stretched. It wasn't noticeable at first, a few stars began to become distorted like a pict viewer showing individual pixels. Then it began to visibly bulge. The stars began to change position, move and jump. Finally like a screen of slim plastek, space tore. Unnatural lightning, hundreds of kilometres long flashed across the void. A yawning gulf of insanity spilled out and **'Fury of the Raven' **pulled herself from the immaterial realm. With a silent thunderclap, the warp portal closed. **'Fury of the Raven' **started up her sublight engines, to begin station keeping. Several minutes later the entire Chapter fleet had gathered in orbit, clouds of Thunderhawks and heavy landers were birthed from the fleets launch bays. Fast attack ships began taking positions at the system's Mandeville points, to alert them to any approaching ships.

The Brotherhood of Techmarines began their landing first, their rust red gunships emblazoned with Cult Mechanicus and Chapter insignia burned their way through the upper atmosphere to create a new chapter outpost. Heavy landers, their swollen cargo spaces filled with raw materials, followed them. Eleven drop pods followed them, filled with the 10th Company; Scouts, and two combat squads. One of Librarians and another of Apothecaries', to assess the new planet as viable to sustain Astartes operation. Finally the line companies dropped in their Thunderhawks. Second, Third, fourth and Fifth companies all began deploying on Melta cut hardpan landing sites. Already a void shield generator had been deployed and several prefab barracks and power generators.

With thunder claps the Drop pods of the reserve companies smashed home. Four hundred Astartes began to take position on the other side of where the line comp

as one the four companies filed out of their gunships and stood in parade formation. Without his helmet or armour Barbaros was subject to the noise of the construction site. Pneumatic tools hissed and whined, gas welders skittered and cracked.  
With thunder claps the Drop pods of the reserve companies smashed home. Four hundred Astartes began to take position on the other side of where the line companies had gathered. Four Company Captains filed out of the assembling ranks and lined up shoulder to shoulder with the four Captains already gathered there.

Barbaros's nose twitched. He tilted his head toward Heldon, who was standing to his left.  
"_You smell Ozone?_" he whispered. Heldon grunted his affirmation. Sergeant Severtor, who stood at the end of the Squad file, to Barbaros's right gave the two of them his dagger eyes.  
"_Shut. Your. Mouths_" he whispered through gritted teeth, his voice as cold as a Fenrisian Hel winter.

With a booming snap of displaced air, one hundred chapter veterans appeared, in perfect line formation at the head of the Line Companies. One hundred Battle brothers in gleaming Terminator plate Snapped to attention as the saw what approached. Barbaros looked up.

With a roar a bone white gunship glided down from the sky, chapter heraldry emblazoned and honour markings upon its surface. Barbaros's super human sight could pick up the tiny manoeuvring thrusters blaring as the heavy aircraft smoothly landed at the head of the Parade ground. With a cloud of steam the front ramp dropped. Several cherubs holding smoking incense censers flew out, their vat grown wings flapping in the dry air. Out of the smoke emerged the High Chaplain, his skull mask glaring at all of them with its death glare. Following him where several Chapter serfs, all dressed in the golden robes of Chapter Command. Next out was the Chief Librarian, his pale face seeming almost sunken and withdrawn. His eyes where heavy lidded and a black shade hung about his eyes as if he had not been sleeping. Quickly following him was the Master Apothecary. But behind them all was their Leader; their lord.

"_CHAPTER! ATEEEEN-SHUN_!" bellowed the High Chaplain. As one the nine hundred Astartes present Snapped to attention. The massive Terminator hulks stood even more rigidly if such a thing was possible. The Chapter Master strode out of the smoke. Instead of the Crimson Armour of his fellows he wore a golden suit of artificer armour edged in black. A bone white cape flowed out behind him and a massive two handed powersword was sheathed at his thigh. Two Servitors with torsos replaced with massive vox amplifiers followed him out and his voice began to echo about the freshly constructed Parade ground.

"_Brothers! Valued Comrades one and all_!" Began the Chapter Master, his voice flowing like midnight shadow, like wine.  
"_You all know why we are here, why we are no longer counted among the emperor's service by the Inquisition, even though they have been misled by Daemonic lies_" he paused and regarded the host spread out before him. The sun glinted of him and gave him a brilliant aura like he was a demi-god made flesh.  
"_And although they are deluded we can never return to them, we are outcasts, we can never redeem ourselves for what we have been tricked into_" He paused, as if carefully choosing his next words.  
"_We are now renegades, but we shall still protect humanity, as their silent and unacknowledged guardians_".  
"_Chaos shall rue the day that they drew our utmost ire upon them_!" Bellowed the High Chaplain.

The Chapter roared their assent. Nine hundred voices roared their approval. Through the wild cheering. Barbaros could see the Librarian's eyes. Slitted and incompatible with the current uproar. Barbaros wondered why that could be.  
He wondered, could the Chapter Master have said something he didn't like?  
And, Emperor help them, what could that be?


	7. Chapter Seven: Welcome to the Jungle

Contested Jungle World: Marais Prime, 546, M40.  
Twelve days after Primary Eldar Warhost Defeated.

Baarbarus stalked forward, his power armour snapping branches that reached out for him with his merest touch. The stinking humidity outside didn't bother him, his power armour was fully enclosed and climate controlled internally. The Chaos infantrymen around him weren't so lucky. They sweated uncomfortably under thin weave fatigues and body armour. He stalked through the swamp mire at the head of the column, his boltgun roving for targets. Behind him came at least fifty Chaos infantrymen and a Cargo 4wd with an autocannon positioned on its rotating roof hatch. Its beefy eight cylinder engine strained to pull its bulk through the mud. With a shuddering lurch the vehicle slumped back into a deeper section of mud, its spinning wheels sending up geysers of mud. Baarbarus signalled a stop and several troopers rushed to free the trapped vehicle. Baarbarus turned and lent against a tree, its drooping boughs bending under his weight. He looked at the struggling mortals off playing in the mud, trying to free the vehicle. He knew he would have to help them eventually.

It had been a hard war so far. During the first days of the invasion they had clashed with Eldar hit and run units and slogged their way across the plains. Several flank attacks by Grav-tanks had cut supply lines and delayed advances while army units chased their own tails looking for ghosts. Finally on the 8th day they met in open combat and crushed the Eldar utterly. The scattered remnants had fled to the swampy forests that covered most of the planet. Third Company had been split up into individual Astartes and given command of one hundred men, and told to hunt down the remaining Eldar. A grim grin crossed Baarbarus's lips, Easier said than done, the bastards where dug in like maggots on a Plague Marine.

Now it had been four day of hard slog through the jungle and Baarbarus's force had taken 50% casualties. Eldar rangers lurked in the trees and pits filled with Wraithbone spikes had been secreted across most of the trails. Worst of all where the Warp Spider attacks. Several had hit the column at night, appearing in tents and massacring sleeping soldiers. When the awakened soldiers managed to get to the sites, the attackers had all gone. Daylight was almost as worse as the nights. Wraith mines had been secreted everywhere and Striking Scorpions charged out of the underbrush as if at random, their Chainswords screaming.  
Baarbarus cursed the Eldar, why could they not meet them in open battle? They were already defeated, why draw out the affair?

Baarbarus was snapped out of his thoughts by an approaching Infantryman, a Sergeant by his pins.  
"_Magir, could you please lend us a hand in freeing the Cargo 4_?" he spoke in Low Chaotic, a bastardised version of Imperial Low Gothic. With a sigh, the towering Chaos Space Marine raised himself off the ground and left his Bolter leaning against a tree. He strode over two the bogged Cargo 4, the small solider jogging to keep up with his distance eating stride. He looked at the bogged vehicle for a second, walked to the rear fender and lifted it clear from the mud. Gritting his teeth at the extreme effort, Baarbarus began to push the jeep towards the more solid ground. With a roar of super human effort he let go of the jeep, the driver gunned the engine and rolled out of the mud and onto a raised mound of earth. A cheer rose up from the Chaos Soldiery.  
"_Back in formation_!" Barked Baarbarus, they still had a long way to go before they met up with the main force.  
The column squelched its way through the underbrush, the sun beginning to set. The amber sunset created thousands of conflicting shadows and the cool dusk breeze cause them to shift and jump. Muttered prayers were offered to Unholy Gods, and circumstances that led men here were cursed. Always alert the column pressed on, the greener Troopers jumping at the creaking of branches or the flutter of swamp birds. Baarbarus consulted his map, Tzeentch dammit, they were off course.  
There was a shout from the rear of the convoy, the Jeep's pintle Autocannon began to bark, spitting .50 rounds into the jungle at a thunderous rate. Its searchlight shining like a beacon into the fast approaching darkness.  
"_Report in Idiots! What are you firing at_!?" Roared Baarbarus. There was an animal scream of pain, followed by a furious flurry of lasfire, then - silence.  
"_Hold positions! Defensive spread! Get your NVG's up Idiots_!" bellowed Baarbarus as he moved his way down the line toward the Jeep. A chorus of fearful "_Yes, Magir_" followed him.

"_What happened?!_" Baarbarus bellowed, the Gunner, clearly a devotee of Grandfather Nurgle, turned every shade of green apart from the one he should be.  
"_M-magir! I saw a pred, a big bastard, lurking around the edges, I d-didn't think I'd bother you with it_"  
"_and why not_?" remarked Baarbarus, one eyebrow raised sardonically, pity nobody could see him outside his armour. For the last few hours there had been reports of the nocturnal jungle predators coming out and ghosting the convoy, this was bound to happen eventually. He turned to where is big body lay, and ugly bastard. It was a feline, mostly. Its upper body looked like the house Cats that Baarbarus had seen in his childhood, but its lower body was all reptile, its two legs ending in great sickle claws. Its hand terminated in pincers, alike to sea faring crustaceans. Its upper body was covered in light orange fuzz, while its lower body was coated in cream scales not that anybody would know, massive entry wounds and purple black blood covered its body. The corpse of a Solider of Chaos lay crushed under its bulk, his Lasgun still venting smoke from its barrel. Baarbarus sighed and turned, before the Nurglite Trooper could blink, Baarbarus's Bolter thundered. The Mass reactive round took the trooper in the chest and painted his remains across the roof or the Jeep.  
"_Filthy Bastard_" muttered Baarbarus.

"_New gunner_! _Here_!" bellowed Baarbarus. A trooper detached himself from the main group and ran over to the jeep, but tripped and fell half way there.  
"_Get up swine_!" yelled Baarbarus, then he noticed the pool of blood spilling onto the dirt and the shuriken buried in the tree next to him.  
"_CONTACT! RISE AND, REPEL SOILDERS OF THE DARK GODS_!" Bellowed Baarbarus, cycling through his vision till he reached heat sensitive. The driver of the jeep slid into the back seat and rose up through the hatch, racking the bolt on the .50 Autocannon. A great howl split the air and five Eldar broke cover. They were not of a kind Baarbarus had seen before, their mask had howling vox grilles and great manes of red hair. Their lithe forms where encased in bone white armour, all of them held crackling azure powerblades and all of them, to an Eldar, were female.  
The Female's bellowed again, this time the sound was deafening. Baarbarus dropped to one knee, his ears ringing through the confines of his helmet. He observed several nearby troopers clutching their ears in pain, blood running between their fingers. Baarbarus's battle instinct kicked in, and he began to blast away with his Bolter. The leading Howling Banshee flew apart as internal explosions minced her. A spear of flame flew out of the Chaos ranks and crisped another, her cries of rage turning to torment as her body burned. Lasfire began to flicker out and lanced another, her body beginning to morbidly dance under the weight of fire. The final two made contact with the Chaos lines.

The first jumped, summersaulted and landed in the midst of the Chaos Infantry, the other charged Baarbarus. He threw his Bolter aside and drew his chainsword, revving it up till the adimantium teeth were cutting the very air. The charging Banshee was naught but metres from him, Baarbarus raised his gauntlet and beckoned the warrior, taunting her.

Baarbarus's Astartes physiology let him swing first but the nimble Eldar ducked out of the way. He swung again and cut only air. Frustration building inside him, he thrust forward and caught her around her sternum. Sparks spat off her Aspect armour, leaving ugly grey scratches that wept a milky yellow fluid. The counter jabbed and he deflected it with the flat outer casing of his chainweapon. With a flick of his wrist he wrenched the powerblade out of her hand, it landed blade down in the swamp and black mud began to cook off its ignited blade.  
With a screech of frustration she leapt up and landed on Baarbarus's back. Baarbarus swung a punch to dislodge her but she was too quick and contorted her body out of harm's way. She pulled at Baarbarus's helmet and tried to twist it off his neck seal. Baarbarus grabbed her forearm and flung her into the swamp mud at his feet.  
She landed like a cat and drew her Shuriken pistol and began blasting at him, the esoteric weapon spiting diamond sharp stars at a furious rate. It was so fast that even Baarbarus's super human eyes couldn't follow them. He flinched back as the stars impacted his chestplate, most just dug into the surface while one penetrated the ceramite wargear and drew blood from his torso. Almost immediately his body glanded natural stimulants and painkillers, while his Larraman's organ began turning the cut to instant scar tissue. All this happened in the exact amount of time it took Baarbarus to blink. He swung forward with an open palm and slapped the pistol aside. He then hooked with his other hand and caught the Eldar around her ribs. She smashed down against the trunk of a nearby tree, her helmet smacking against the wood with a dull _thunk_. Baarbarus strode over to her and drew his black bladed combat knife.

The Howling Banshee took of her helmet and looked at Baarbarus. If he was still human; she would have been beautiful, aside from the pointed ears and the eldritch tattoos.  
"_Foul Chaos slave, do what you will to me, but know that your effort is doomed_" her voice flowed like silk and would have ensnared lesser men, but Baarbarus was an Astartes and immune to such base urges. She coughed and aspirated blood in the process.  
"_Chaos cannot win on this world, it is sacred ground to the Children of Khaine, you will fail, warp pawn_" blood began to flow freely from the corner of her mouth. Baarbarus laughed, it was a terrifying, booming sound. Like the thunder of thirsty gods.  
"_What are you waiting for Chaos Marin_-" before she could finish her sentence Baarbarus slammed his blade into her throat up to the hilt, fixing her to the tree by sixty inches of black knife. He reached down and plucked her Soulstone from her chestplate. He turned, and surveyed the rest of the engagement. The other Banshee had been brought low by the Chaos troopers, what they lacked in skill they made up for in weight of numbers. He stepped into the circle of dismembered Troopers and ripped the rune off her blood soaked armour.

Shapes where emerging from the twilight gloom. Baarbarus scooped up his bolter and aimed it at the approaching shapes.  
"_Surrogate Paladin! Stay your hand_!" bellowed a booming Bass voice. Black Legion. An entire combat Pack. Twenty Astartes. He notice _they _didn't have to be split up to lead infantry units. He still hadn't forgiven them for the loss of Second and Fourth Companies on Victoriax in '554. However, their Lord had warband command and therefor granted them seniority.

"_Greeting Magir, What are your orders_?" rumbled Baarbarus, his hatred barely held in check.  
"_You and these men should follow us, the gathering is right over here_" snarled the Aspiring Champion his resentment unveiled.  
"_As the Sons of Horus Command_" grinned Baarbarus, it was an intended insult.

The Black legion had been one of the original legions to turn against the Imperium during the black days of the Horus Heresy and had been led, at the time, by their Primarch; Warmaster Horus. After the failure of the Siege of Terra, Death of Horus and the great exodus to the Eye, the Sons of Horus had renamed themselves the Black Legion, to expunge their failure. Now bringing up their old name was a grave insult and reminder of their failure.

"_Renegade dog! You dare mock me_!" Bellowed the Aspiring Champion, unsheathing his daemon weapon, a spiked obsidian sword glowing with a sickly green aura.  
"_I should slay you for such insolence_!" He raged.

A soft sound of metal on metal reverberated around the deathly silent swamp. An Astartes in full battle plate wearing crimson armour flecked with gold and unholy runes stepped out of the shadows. Baarbarus dropped to his knees immediately.  
"_My Captain, I was not aware of your presence_" he intoned.  
Captain Bloodchild Flavius laughed. The Aspiring Champion looked even more enraged.  
"_More of you Surrogate Paladins? Warp dammit, we would be done with this campaign if you were not involved_" he didn't finish his rant. Captain Flavius had his black knife against the Astartes throat, the soldier's Adam's apple resting atop the flat of the blade.  
"_Watch your tongue whelp_" whispered Flavius.  
"_Your Lord may have warband command, but our Chapter Master is a Daemon prince, an honour not even your precious Warmaster Abbadon has achieved, and I don't answer to mere squad leaders_"  
The Aspiring Champion looked like he would explode from rage, but slightly increased pressure from the knife prevented it.  
"_I_" the Aspiring Champion began.  
"_Yes_?" Probed Bloodchild.  
"_I would like to apologize for my remark_" stated the Aspiring Champion, his eyes studying his armoured toe caps.  
"_Come along Baarbarus, we are done here, the Crusade is moving on, bring your men_" announced Flavius. Grinning like a wolf, Baarbarus turned and gestured to the remainder of the column.

They arrived at the Chaos camp early in the morning. The Chaos Infantry peeled off to reconnect with the rest of their Regiment, and Baarbarus strode off towards the Astartes quarters, he wished to see Severance squad again. He was stopped by a burly Marine of the Black Legion. He had removed his armour from the waist up. His facial and body structure was male, but his devotion to Slannesh was apparent by the four breasts that sat upon his chest. And if the Prince of pleasure had not blessed him enough his Nipples had been replaced by four maw's filled with needle teeth. Baarbarus was glad he was an undivided worshiper, mutation simply didn't appeal to him.  
The Slannesh worshiper put out his hand. The eye of Horus was tattooed onto his palm.  
"Our lord, the Goldenking, demands all captured Eldar Soulstones for tribute for the Prince of Pleasure" Baarbarus snorted his amusement at parting with his battlefield trophies and tossed the leather pouch that contained the Soulstones at the Slanneshi Marine.

He could not wait to get off world.


	8. Chapter Eight: Certain Death and Pain

Imperial Agri-world, Paaltuva IV, 222, M39  
Seven hours before Emperor's Paladins' departure.

They had killed them all. Five million Greenskins had made planet fall eighty days before and the Emperor's Paladins Third Company had slain them. Bolter fire had echoed off the mountains and flamers had lit the night. However there would be no victory parade in their honour, no thankful populace. They were renegades now, due to the actions of a spiteful daemon and one big lie.  
They had taken the Greenskins in the outlying farms and killed them before they reached the population centres. Fighting had been fierce and the apothecaries and chaplain had been busy. Concentrated orbital bombardment had purified the "Rok" fortress landers and decimated huge rolling columns of Orkish armour. And the local populace would never know. It would be one of those unexplained miracles philosophers debate about until the ending of this world.  
Barbaros was anxious to leave. They had spent far too long in waiting and they were, subsequently, discovered. Early on the eighty-third morning the Emperor's Paladins were planet-side. A PDF recon unit had been spotted in the tree line beyond the perimeter and the local nobility had come to greet them. Things had turned sour when they realised who, in fact, their saviours were. Now they had several Imperial Navy battleships in orbit and an assault force of Imperial Guard fast approaching from their drop zone. The company was at full alert and all efforts were being made to extract them.

* * *

It was midday when the Commanders of the Imperial Guard came to greet them, six men on black stallions in dress uniforms. With reluctance, the perimeter defence let them pass and Captain Flavius met them in the centre of the camp. Severance Squad stood as bodyguards to the Captain, all eleven giants in crimson Astartes plate towered over the men on horses.

One man dismounted and walked towards the Astartes. He had a sculpted face with high cheekbones, evidence of a noble birth. An ash grey, well maintained beard clung to his jawline. His uniform was a sky blue greatcoat festooned with red shoulder braid and glimmering golden buttons. He left his greatcoat unbuttoned so that his medals could be on display - a Macharian Cross, for strategic brilliance, several long service medals and a Winged Skull for tactical brilliance. A long red sash adorned his torso, crossing from left to right with gold thread entwined along its edges. A flowing cape of bone white cloth followed him and atop his head was a black satin top hat, a golden Aquila embroidered across it. Cold, grey eyes stared out at the Astartes, the left from behind a monocle. The Officer stopped a respectful distance from the Astartes and bowed ornately.

The man did not speak, as if waiting for something to happen. A low breeze swept through the field, making the local grain crops sway on their long golden stems. Small brown birds flitted through the tall Blackwoods, their thick, dark trunks reaching for the sky with emerald leaves. Finally the Imperial Guardsman spoke.

"_Captain Augustus Flavius? Captain of the Third Company, formerly of Emperor's Paladins Chapter_?" spoke the dismounted Officer, a Colonel by his overly grandiose rank pins.  
"_Aye, and what do you mean 'formerly'? We are still loyal to the Chapter,_" growled Flavius, his eyes locked on the pitifully frail mortal. He was sick of the situation the Daemon had put them in and longed to leave this world. The Imperial Guardsman took the remark in his stride and continued.  
"_I am Colonel-Sire Albrecht Von Balthazar, of his Glorious Emperor's Imperial Guard, 584__th__ Gaustavus XI Line Infantry_" announced the man, speaking the High Gothic of Imperial Courts, his golden medals glinting in the bright sunlight, his thundercloud grey beard shifting in the light breeze.  
"_I come with the authority of Imperial justice and am ordered by the Sector Lords to bring you in for the crime of separatist action against the Imperium._" The Colonel paused and looked directly into Flavius's eyes, a good four feet above his own. Flavius grunted; the Colonel looked like a bad smell had come his way. With a polite cough, he continued.  
"_But as you are an Astartes and my Military code demands that honour be satisfied, I ask that you surrender to preserve the lives of my and your men_" he finished.  
"_I must refuse your kind offer,_" replied Flavius, using the same noble tongue. He gestured to the surrounding outpost.  
"_My brothers and I still protect the race of man, but we no longer operate within the jurisdiction of the Imperium. Circumstance has met us as foes, Colonel-Sire, but blood need not be shed; we aim to leave the planet before the day is out."_  
"_I am afraid I cannot let you leave, Brother Captain. My orders are explicit in their instruction; you are not allowed to leave this system unless under my authority." _H_e_ stood up straighter and looked directly into Flavius's eyes._  
"I am sorry that Imperial blood must be spilled this afternoon, Brother Captain." _He glanced over his shoulder at his accompanying officers. _"Captain-Sire Eggert, the diplomatic bag please_" sighed the Colonel. A slim, fair haired Captain dismounted his horse and pulled a scroll from his leather satchel. He bowed to the Colonel and to Flavius and handed the scroll to Von Balthazar. Balthazar then handed the scroll to Flavius, nodding to each of the Astartes present. The Colonel mounted his horse, made the sign of the Aquila to the Brother Captain and left with his command staff. Only after the man left did Flavius read the scroll. He read it silently first, then, his voice rich with disbelief, he read the scroll aloud.

"_Dear honoured combatant,_" he began.  
"_It is vastly regrettable that our two forces must make war, but, Emperor willing, we will not back down. Your army is requested to meet us in glorious battle: 1500hrs at the Villeoux grasslands. Do not shirk or your honour will be forfeit.  
"I would keep reading but the bastard has listed his entire force deployment and where he intends to meet us!" _chuckled Flavius. Severtor stepped up and stood next to his Captain. He laughed.  
"_Do you intend to meet them Captain_?" he questioned.  
"_Of course_" said Flavius. "_I have not ever in my lifetime of war been asked politely to meet an opposing army._"

* * *

The afternoon drew on, and the third company formed up at Villeoux. They spied the Imperial Camp, a great hub of tents and shield generators. At 1400hrs the hosts of the 584th departed the camp and took their line formation. Great towed Earthshaker batteries where drawn into position. Horse and carriage mounted Battle cannons were laid in positions; then came on the infantry. 10,000 men, all with Laslocks with great sword bayonets affixed. Their uniforms were ornate, so blue they were almost black. Great ocean blue greatcoats covered them and shining silver buttons rested on their chests. Ceremonial braids adorned their right shoulders, white braid for infantrymen and gold for officers. They all wore ribbed black bicorn hats with purity seals affixed to the left corner. They drew up in perfect formation, a long line one thousand long with ten ranks. They came on in a slow advance. Drums rattled and trumpets blared.

As if in sympathy storm clouds gathered, their rain swollen bellies threatening to soak the earth at any moment.

"_Severance Squad_!" bellowed Severtor, drawing his bolt pistol. "_Stand to_!"

The ten men of Severance squad took positions in combat spread, five metres apart, in two ranks, some kneeling and others standing; making the best use of terrain. The rest of the Company was spread out across the field and Predator Battle Tanks were prowling forwards from the rear. Devastators began to take position and Assault squads moved into concealment, preparing to jump out at the last possible moment. Captain Flavius stood in the centre of the field, flanked by the Chaplain and his Command squad. Far across the field, the Colonel raised a rapier-thin powerblade and saluted the Brother-Captain.

"It begins," whispered Flavius.

With a thunder that the ancient storm gods would envy, the Earthshaker cannons opened up. 155mm shells flew through the grey sky, the very air howling at their passing. Great geysers of boiling mud and smashed rock flew up where the shells impacted, and clouds of shrapnel buzzed lethally through the air. In response, the Company's single Whirlwind opened up, spitting a torrent of missiles into the stormy heavens. They screeched down from the clouds and into Infantry ranks, detonating with rolling clouds of hellfire, the unfortunate Guardsmen who had been hit collapsing as flame-seared husks. Battle cannons let fly, their 105mm rounds detonating in and around the approaching armour. One Predator, **'Son of Corax'**,took a high explosive shell to its frontal hull. A cloud of black explosive smoke formed where the tank had been. Like a leviathan rising from midnight black water, the Tank powered out of the smoke, lascannons seeking to spar with the Battle cannon battery. Third company was not without casualties, however. A Battle-Brother of Liberation squad was hit dead centre of the chest by an astronomically lucky Earthshaker round, completely atomising him and sending the closer members of his squad pin-wheeling from the explosive shockwave.

The ranks continued to march forward, unaware or, more likely, uncaring of their losses. Barbaros's Astartes senses told him the enemy were in range. His experience in battle told him that he must adjust his shot by 0.002% for wind variation and that the enemy were still fifty-five metres from maximum Laslock range. He looked over the battlefield, the ranks of marching men; brave Imperial Guardsmen, sent to die on their betters' whim; his Astartes brethren, laid in unfortunate circumstance by unholy creatures; the field they fought over, grey mud showing up through tufts of dying grass; the sky, wracked with rocket contrails and artillery smoke. His Captain's command, yanked him back to where he should be; with his head in the fight.

"_THIRD COMPANY! WEAPONS FREE_!" bellowed Flavius, raising his powersword.

"_Severance squad_!" yelled Severtor "_Ten rounds rapid! Then fire at will_!"

Barbaros opened fire, his shots lost in a fifteen second burst of intense bolter that flared out of the Space Marine lines. The company's Devastators began to fire, the heavy bolters blasting the air with their loud reports. The several front ranks of the Imperial Guard were massacred. Bolter rounds liquidated bodies and sent remains of lifelong friends spraying across their comrades. Hips and legs, with no torsos attached to them, flopped down to their knees all across the Imperial Guard ranks. The heavy bolter rounds reached them next. Men who were still recovering from being covered in what was left of their friends were demolished by explosive bolts the size of 375ml water cans. They still advanced though. "They must be extremely well drilled," thought Barbaros. Sporadic bolter fire drizzled out of the Emperor's Paladins' lines, knocking devoted Imperial Guardsmen from their feet.

The Imperial Guardsmen had advanced to fifty metres from the Emperor's Paladins' lines when they stopped to fire their first volley. Officers and the occasional Commissar ran down the lines as men prepped their Laslocks to fire.

"_Seek cover_!" ordered Flavius over the Company vox. Barbaros hurled himself into a firing position in a depression behind a limestone boulder to his left. The rest of Severance squad dropped down on their fronts. Graflon was blasting with his bolter, Heldon was affixing his bolter's bayonet.

The first rank of the Gaustavus 584th dropped to their knees and fired - close on one thousand lasguns split the air.

The standard M36 Lascarbine used by the Cadian Storm troopers and a vast majority of Imperial Guard regiments is a versatile weapon. It has two settings for combat use. Low, useful for power conservation but still lethal to unarmoured human targets. High, for engaging human or Xeno's light to medium armoured targets. It will only harm an Astartes in full plate if a lucky shot hits the helmet lenses or the neck seal. It is not a recommended weapon for taking on enemies in Power armour. The Gaustavus 584th however do not use this pattern of Las weapon. They use the M-29-U88 Laslock, an ancient heirloom to Humanities' golden age of technology. Whereas an M36 operates on the 18th Megathule level to deliver its laser payload, the M-29-U88 fires las at the 38th Megathule. This enables this antique weapon to engage and reliably harm power armoured targets. Instead of a single lasbolt the M-29-U88 fires a continuous stream of laser fire for a full 10 seconds, much like a Lance used aboard Imperial warships. However the sheer amount of energy put out by the M-29-U88 is sufficient to warrant a minimum safe cool down time of three minutes. Adding on to this a complex reloading procedure, the total time between individual shots is lengthened to a full five minutes. This makes it a terrible weapon for standard infantry units and it is therefore not very widespread in Imperial service. However for units using antique strategies like the Infantry line and volley firing, it suits their needs perfectly.

One thousand beams of sun bright laser energy rippled through the air. The lasers made a shrieking roar as they passed overhead, a combination of ultra-loud radio feedback and nails on a scholam chalkboard. Simmelus caught a beam with his left pauldron and it spun him right the way round, leaving a 30mm smoking hole in his battle plate. All the while the Emperor's Paladins were firing, their accurate bolter fire knocking down scores of men. Despite men falling all around them, the second rank ran between the kneeling first and fired. A second volley of laser beams blasted into the Space Marine lines. Captain Flavius caught a beam in his breast, but it was dissipated by his artificer armour's inbuilt refractor field. One Battle-Brother of a Devastator squad took a beam to his forehead and dropped to the ground, wisps of acrid smoke seeping out of his armour's joints. The third rank ran up and knelt to fire, their blasts killing another two Astartes from the Company's tactical squads; one from Liberation and another from Millennium squad. Rank after rank poured fire into the Astartes, each massed volley killing one to two Space Marines.

The Guardsmen kept firing by ranks until they reached thirty metres distant. A solo fanfare of a trumpet began to blast out across the battlefield. Officers in the infantry formation drew swords, and Commissars waved their pistols about.

"_CHAAAAAAAAAAARGE_!" bellowed several Guard officers. With the thunder of boots that shook the mire soaked field, the Gaustavus 584th rushed forward. Men yelled until it all collided in one giant intermingled howl. Barbaros let fly with a thunderous volley of full auto, knocking down a score of men. Still the ocean of men came on.

"_Third company! Now is your time! Stand and address_!" screamed Flavius, his plasma pistol out of his holster and blasting at the approaching men. His words were underlit by the thunder of the Devastator squads' heavy bolters, stretched thin as they punished the Imperial Guard advance. Bolter fire tore out of the space marine lines, cutting down men like a scythe. Still the horde of screaming men came on.

"_Assault squads! Now_!" Ordered Flavius. With a roar of combustion turbines, the twenty Astartes of the Companies two Assault squads flew through the air. Twenty angels of death, suspended on wings of flame; their chainswords baying for blood.

Gaustavus XI is an Industrio-Feudal world. Its technology level in the factories and high spires of the noble palaces are of a comparable tech level to many core Imperial worlds such as Terra or Bakka. However the vast majority of the populace lives in a comparable level of technology to early M2 Terra, around a time period known as the "eyytiin huudrds". Unless they work on the many agri complexes scattered across the planets verdant pastureland, many Gaustavuans never see the light of day while working punishing 21 hour shifts in the heavy manufactories. The only way to get off planet is by joining the Imperial Guard. Officers are only allowed to be drawn from a noble houses, while NCO's and line troopers are drawn from the farmlands; Gaustavus is proud of its mechanical exports and no factory workers can ever leave their job posting in their life time. As a consequence, nearly every trooper was unprepared for twenty super soldiers to come crashing out of the sky and into the midst of their charge.

At the apex of their flight the Astartes were traveling at 300km per hour, their three hundred kilos of bulk screaming through the air. The Assault Marine's chainswords' singing a song of death as old as the Imperium itself. The Astartes landed with a spray of mud and flare of thrusters. Pistols blasted at point blank range, detonating in chests and blowing off limbs. Swords hacked and slashed, cutting men apart in brutal semicircles of gore and viscera. The Imperial Guard, caught flat footed, used the only offensive resource left to them; sheer weight of numbers. The Assault marines were swamped, Battle Brothers had men hanging off their limbs trying to jam knives and bayonets into the joins of their armour. However they were not alone in their fight.

"_Third company! Supporting action_!" bellowed Flavius. He raised his powerblade and sprinted forward, his command squad in tow. The rest of the Company charged forward, midnight black combat knives drawn.  
Barbaros sprinted along with Severance, like the rest of their company they were silent; the Sons of Corax do not fall howling into the maelstrom of battle like the Vlka Fenrika, they do so silently, like avenging shadows.  
Barbaros's blood was pumping, his bioengineered physiology began to gland combat stimms and produce adrenaline at an astounding rate. At five metres distant the Astartes of Third threw their knives, spearing men and in some cases flying clean through and into the men behind. Barbaros accelerated to full sprint, his power armoured form smacking into the Guard lines like a wrecking ball.  
Men where flung left and right from the Company's impact. Barbaros swung a hooked fist and tore a man's throat out, blood spraying out of him like a compression hose. In the same action he flung an elbow backward and mashed a face to bone fragments and paste. The combat haze descended on him, he swung fists and kicked with ceramite boots; destroying all who came before him.

He could feel their panic; the Guardsmen. They were close to breaking, men were crying out for orders and their mothers. They were slain, men fell like cattle to the slaughter. The Guard formation broke. Men began to fall back without heed, Commissars started shooting men to make them stand and fight, but to no avail. Barbaros charged through a mass of men to the nearest Political Officer, a pale man with a sallow face clothed in black leather, a high powered autopistol in his hand and yelling at nearby Guardsmen to rally. The Pale Commissar saw Barbaros closing and turned his pistol on him. Small, .50 calibre dimples began to appear in Barbaros's battle plate. With wet impact Barbaros body slammed the Commissar. The small, now very dead, man was thrown backwards several metres. He landed in a limp, bloody mess at the feet of some retreating Guardsmen.

Barbaros unsheathed his second knife from his other sheath and began to run at them. The smallest guardsman in the group looked at him, he was young, around 19. Tears were streaming down his face. His hat was gone and his thin blonde hair flopped about his white skin. He was shaking, trying to make the sign of the Aquila.  
"_P-please_" he stammered.

Barbaros showed no mercy. Black knife punched into pale flesh and red blood flowed freely.


End file.
